Books Don't Like To Flutter

[deathly_dru]

I scritch-scratched on the table, but it didn't want to burn.

Or cry.

Or bleed.

I remember Christmas. This won't be a real Christmas... Little children in the snow and smoke in the puddles.

Spike, tell them about when you brought me those little girls wrapped in a bow.

I like that story.

I liked tasting that story.